


When in Rome?

by Ilthit



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Arranged Marriage, Cross-Cultural Misinterpretations, Dubious Consent, Gen, Patriarchy, Rimmerworld, Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24258100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit
Summary: The crew of the Dwarf are back on Rimmerworld looking for a solution to the extinction of the human race. Lister does not like the others' idea.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Banned Banned Together Bingo 2020, Banned Together Bingo 2020, Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	When in Rome?

Rimmerworld.

It hung in space like any normal, lush, beautiful planet of vibrant greenery and vast, unspoiled seas, a glittering ball of promise only beginning to be cashed in by civilization. No satellites yet littered its orbit—apart from one. The Dwarf, red and massive, floated slow and serene in the pull of the planet's gravity, just like a brick (as the man said) didn't. From down on the planet itself, it glinted in the night sky like an additional star. 

"I'm not having it," Lister said, g lancing longingly up at the sky through the window of the small room the crew had been assigned at the imperial palace. "No way."

"But they  _ are _ humans," Kryten pointed out gently. "And their genes have proven impressively robust under constant inbreeding."

They had come here to find a way to restart the human race—the real human race, not this… whatever they had going on Rimmerworld. They'd been hoping to find technology, biological samples, medical facilities… something, anything to get them started, but the Rimmers had struggled to exit the age of dictatorships and, even after another time dilation, had yet to discover antibiotics, let alone gene technology. Th e arts that had created them in the first place had been lost in the march of centuries . 

To Lister, there had been no obvious first solution. To everyone else of what remained of the Red Dwarf's crew, there apparently was.

"I am _not_ marrying Rimmer, even a she-Rimmer." Lister paced the length of the room, from the bunk beds with incongruous silk sheets to the mural depicting a bloody victory of Rimmer over Rimmer. 

"I suppose you could have extramarital relations until she conceives," Kryten suggested. "I hear that's not uncommon."

Lister shook his head as he paced. "I'm not doing that either."

"I do not see what the objection is," said the Rimmer diplomat who had been appointed to 'babysit' the off-worlders. He been standing stiffly in his pompous red uniform by the door throughout the exchange. "We would be providing you one of our great beauties as a wife in exchange for your mining technology, and as I understand it, your floating world—"

"Our ship," Lister corrected.

"—Your _ship_ has no women at all." The Rimmer's nostrils flared and he cast a mocking glance at the assembled crew. The Cat sat with his feet crossed on a bed, licking his front paws while Kryten wrung his hands. "Perhaps you do not like women?"

"I do! I love women! I just… You're all Rimmers!"

"Well, I find that a little racist," said the Rimmer, pursing his lips. Lister had to remind himself that this wasn't _his_ Rimmer. That one had been lost—for good, this time.

"What if she wears a veil?" asked Kryten.

Lister grabbed his head, massaging his temples. He'd always wanted to be a dad. He wanted that more than anything, and not just in the abstract sense of knowing he had once had twin sons with himself from another universe. He'd never got to watch them grow up, or had them sit in his lap and call him daddy. And he wasn't getting any younger now. "They can't all be that bad. Can they? Ace is a Rimmer too."

"Exactly!" Kryten perked up. "They are only _b_ _iologically_ and _culturally_ Rimmer. Your bride would be her own person, after all."

"You're not getting much less racist," the diplomat pointed out.

"I for one would never reject a lady cat," said the Cat, smoothing his hair into position. "It would be a crime against cat-kind to deny them a right to be with someone so gorgeous. You're just being selfish."

"All right," said Lister, though his throat nearly gagged at the words. "Let's at least meet her, then."

-

The table for their introductory dinner was set up at an intimate location in one of the palace's official meeting rooms. The Rimmers had offered what they called a 'romantic' option, but Lister had taken one look it and cleared out at the sight of fetish gear and an art installation of bright red crotchless underwear.

Here, the walls and floor were a monotone grey, but the window opened up into the rainforest outside, with a clear sky of glittering stars above. The lights were low and the candles set in amongst the dishes filled softened every curve on the veiled woman before him.

She had kept her gaze demurely lowered ever since she was led in, though her silk bikini with its see-through shrouding gown left little to be demure about. Rimmer or not, her body looked as fertile as the fragrant fruit trees outside. With her mascara-thickened lashes and narrow limbs, Lister could almost forget she was a Rimmer at all. Her voice, too, was soft as she shyly asked him to pass the sausages.

"So uh," he said as a wiener disappeared behind her veil. "What's your name? I mean, apart from Rimmer, what do they call you?"

"Golden, my lord," she said after dabbing her hidden mouth with a napkin. "For my perfect  skin and my  shiny  hair. My sister is Silver, and my mother is Brass."

"Oh."

"She used to be called Golden, too, but she  grew old ." 

Lister's face screwed up in distaste, but he swallowed the feeling and tried again. "What do you like to do for fun, Golden?" he tried.

"Whatever _you_ like, my lord and master." She tilted her head coquettishly.

"I'm sorry, luv, but that's an awful answer."

"It is?" She leaned back. Opened wide, her eyes were Rimmer's.

Bloody smegging hell. Lister smoothed back his dreadlocks. He hadn't even shaved. "Look, I want to get to know you. Or, at least, you know… find out if you're not… I mean, if you really are your own person. I want to know about _you_. And frankly that sounded just like a line from some adolescent's sex fantasy."

She hesitated, and for a moment an awkward silence fell between them. "Try the wine, my lord," she said abruptly. "Here, let me pour." She grabbed the bottle of red wine and filled both their glasses.

"I'd prefer beer," said Lister, but any alcohol might help take off the awkward edge. He lifted the glass to his lips, but something in the way she shifted forward eagerly made him stop. "What?"

"Drink the love-wine, my lord, and your loins will grow heated, and then I will please you."

"What?" Lister yanked the glass from his lips, staring at it in horror.

"It is a powerful aphrodisiac," offered Golden, stretching her delicate fingers in his direction, urging the cup back to his lips. "It will be enough to induce us to mate like wild animals, no matter any revulsion we might feel for one another. It will help you perform. Drink, my lord."

The glass shattered against the grey wall-to-wall carpeting of the meeting room. Lister stumbled on his way out of the chair as its wheels stuck, and it clattered backwards and fell. He was never sure just what words came pouring out of his mouth as he ran out into the hallway, but the feeling of nasty things crawling all over his skin didn't subside until he was back in his quarters, in the shower, and had soaped his chest twice over. He didn't usually even use soap.

Then he remembered a detail that made him want to scrub himself all over again: _She had filled her own glass, too._

This was Rimmer. This was Rimmer's mind, his idea of women, his idea of _sex_. Thank God that man had died nearly a virgin.

-

"We need to get the smeg off this planet," Lister told the others.

"I take it the boom didn't exactly boom, eh?" The Cat shrugged. "I guess no litters of kittens this year, then."

"There is another way," Kryten suggested.

"They tried to smegging drug me!" Lister exploded. "Wait, what other way?"

"Their civilization is based ultimately on cloning technology, isn't it? If we could find the original device, and perhaps modify it sufficiently, we could create hybrid humans based on DNA samples. We have yours, and we have, er…"

"Rimmer's. _These_ Rimmers', to be exact."

"Precisely. The machine has got to be somewhere on this planet still, or if not the machine, then descriptions of it. We just need to find it."

"But we wouldn't even know how to work it. _They_ don't know how to work it."

"Mr Rimmer might. He built it."

"The original Rimmer," Lister said under his breath. "We'll just have to find him, that's all, eh? How, Kryten? We lost him in the explosion. All his files are gone. Even the backup copies in Holly's garbage bin."

"He'll turn up," said Kryten cheerfully. "Hasn't he always?"

"Like a bad penny," said the Cat, nodding.

"We'll trade the mining gear for what they know about the original machine, do a sweep of the historic locations, and then Holly can start figuring it out already while we look for Mr Rimmer's files. Don't lose faith now, sir. I know you had your heart set on this."

"Having babies, yeah. Not me and _Rimmer's_ babies."

"Don't forget…" Kryten began.

"...They'd only be biologically half-Rimmer." Lister began to grin. "They'd be culturally Dwarf."

"That's the spirit." Kryten's metallic face broke into a sappy smile, and the cat offered a high five.

Maybe there was a chance. For a moment, Lister really believed it. Dave Lister from Liverpool, God of the Cat people, the new Abraham, and a _dad_.

Then the Rimmers broke down their door to avenge the insult offered to one of their high ladies, and it was once again time to run.

  
  



End file.
